St. Paul Recorder

Josephine Baker Wows Station Crowd d With Remarks On Democracy

Cincinnati, Ohio.—Josephine Baker, the famed Negro singer, stood on the platform of the Cincinnati railroad station, her cat purring on her arm, and looked at the crowd of admirers who had slipped through the gates to see her off.

Her entourage included two new secretaries, hired to handle the avalanche of messages praising her for canceling an Atlanta appearance for the National Assn. for the Advancement of Colored People after three white hotels had refused her accommodations.

As 25 soldiers who had recently returned from the Korean war front clustered around her, the chanteuse was suddenly impelled to turn lecturer. Her subject: democracy.

"All over the U. S.," she said, her native American richly spiced by a French accent, "I see a growing unity among Negroes and fair-minded whites who realize how costly this business of racial discrimination is to our national and international security. We must fight. And there are many who are fighting."

She explained how her husband, a Frenchman, had told her before sailing for Paris that she must not accept a single engagement here without guarantees of non-segregation for her company as well as her audiences.

"I turned down an engagement in my home town, St. Louis," she said bitterly, "because they refused to guarantee that every member of my audience would be seated without discrimination. I definitely will not go to St. Louis while I'm here and I am happy that I decided to take my family to Paris and away from St. Louis."

The words surged: "All over America, I felt a fantastic atmosphere of smear, fear, and suspicion against loyal Americans who have absolutely no connection with Communism. Even I have been subjected to this ridiculous smear tactic. But I fight on. It does not hurt, for I am fighting on God's side—the right side."

Stopping short, Miss Baker surrendered her feline pet to a secretary and swung toward the wife of a Negro GI, who was holding her baby while listening attentively. The entertainer took the child and cuddled it for several seconds in silence.

With one finger, she pointed at the soldiers. "If they can wear the uniform of the U. S. Army and fight and die gallantly for their country," she said, "they should—and must—be able to enjoy first-class citizenship." Tears blurred her voice. It must come soon, for it is later than we think.

Cheers, whistles and the beat of applause swelled around her. She hugged the baby to her. When she could continue, she said: "See, we are fighting for the future, for this baby and countless generations to follow." She put the infant back in its mother's arms.

Exuberantly, Miss Baker, who had wheeled toward a friend who had come from Dayton, Ohio to see her and patted her on the back.

"Inter-racial, Madam, inter-racial," she sang out. "It's our hope for a lasting and just peace!"